


Coffee, Poker, and Profanity

by that_one_kid



Category: The Expanse Series - James S. A. Corey
Genre: Amos has an excellent poker face, Avasarala is done with these people, Gen, coffee gods, family fic, fluffy fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 04:40:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9162394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/that_one_kid/pseuds/that_one_kid
Summary: The crew takes some much-deserved time to enjoy each others company, and Holden finally gets his coffee.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas, mom!

The kitchen in the Rocinante had become the unofficial meeting place of the crew, when they were holed up in the ship avoiding a station they didn’t trust, and given their track record with the OPA and pretty much every major organization around, they didn’t consider a lot of stations trustworthy. On this particular afternoon, Holden drifted into the kitchen in search of a nice bulb of coffee. Literally drifted, since some moron had decided that the resupply station they were docked at didn’t need to get spun up to any sort of gravity. 

He found Naomi drifting above the table, deep in a conversation with Amos about energy ratios and fuel consumption. They didn’t even acknowledge him as he puttered around the kitchen, fetching the new coffee beans he’d found on-station and delicately aligning the bulb under the brewer. He pressed the ‘brew’ button with a reverence that he’d been told, on several occasions, bordered on the religious. The coffee pot responded with a pitiful clicking sound, and coffee failed to appear. Clearly, the gods he revered were cruel and arbitrary. He moaned sadly. When Amos and Naomi failed to notice, he pushed off the counter, sliding slowly in between the two other occupants of the kitchen. He checked his momentum by grabbing Amos by one arm, and immediately regretted it. The mechanic gave him a look as he slowly began to spin around with the sideways velocity of Holden’s approach. 

“Can I help you?” he said, his emotionless tone nevertheless conveying his bemusement and slight disdain for the wayward captain. 

“The coffee is broken.” Holden said, and waved a hand sadly at the coffeepot. He smiled  at Naomi, who was watching the whole exchange with the nonverbal equivalent of a sigh. Amos glanced at her, and she gave him a slight nod, signaling permission or appraisal or whatever the hell it was that those two communicated through nods and loaded glances. Amos kicked off the wall behind him, and Holden followed closely behind, watching as Amos caught himself on the counter and tugged an Allen wrench out of his pocket. 

“To hear the newsfeeds tell it, you’re either the great hero, Holden, or the nefarious villain.” Naomi said, and he twisted away from the repairs going on in front of him to see her smirk. “Neither story is nearly as convincing when I’m watching you cry over your coffee machine.”

“I’ll have you know that many great heroes and villains drink coffee. It’s a useful drink.” There was a banging sound from behind him, and then a click and a grunt as Amos twisted some component into place. The coffee pot began whirring, and Holden turned away from Naomi to watch as hot, fresh coffee began to fill his bulb. 

“You are a god among men,” he said to Amos, as the mechanic closed the coffee machine and bolted the exterior back into place. 

“Finally, someone acknowledges it.” Amos said, and Holden almost choked on his coffee.

“Was that snark? Did you just snark at me?” There was a clang from outside the kitchen, and Alex slipped through the doorway, feet first and with considerable velocity.

“Fair warning,” he said, landing in a crouch on the far wall of the kitchen. “I’ve angered the large scary Martian marine.”

“Give me my cards, before I remove one of your legs and beat you with it.” Bobbie said, amiably, as she caught herself in the doorway, blocking Alex’s only escape. 

“Cards? I hope you brought enough for everyone.” Holden said, with his best basic-level educator voice. 

“Of course,” Bobbie answered. “If anyone feels like being utterly destroyed at poker, we can play for dish duty or something.”

~ ~ ~

“You’re playing poker in null g? What the fuck am I paying you for, Draper?” a voice called from the doorway.

“You aren’t paying me at all. Sir.” Bobbie responded, without looking away from her hand. 

“Oh. Right. Well then, what the fuck are you people waiting for? Deal me in,” Avasarala said, drifting towards the clump of people floating over the table. Holden glanced from his hand to the pile of scrap paper ‘tokens’ in the middle, and then scrutinized Amos’s cheerful smile. It was, as far as he could tell, the exact same expression as he’d worn for every single round they’d played, and it told him nothing about his possibilities of winning. 

“Do what she says,” he told Alex, who was holding the deck. “She could probably have us drawn and quartered on a whim.” Naomi’s expression was slightly more enlightening than Amos’s, but only because he caught her giving him a long stare of her own.

“I don’t have whims.” Avasarala said, accepting her hand from Alex. “But if I did, it would be interesting to see who all would give me lectures and who would give me medals.”

“And you were wondering why you weren’t invited to poker night.” Holden added, as he considered his own stack of dish duty ‘tokens’. It seemed awfully small. Naomi gave Amos a thoughtful look, and then immediately folded. Avasarala looked over the game, taking in the stakes. 

“I’ll take three cards.” she said, dropping three into the discard pile. Alex slid them to her through the air, and she smirked. “Really, compared to what I do for a living, this seems practically transparent.” 

“Put your money where your mouth is,” Alex said, exaggerating his drawl, and slid his entire pile of chips into the center. Avasarala considered him for a second, then drew a can of real milk out of her sari and floated it into the pot. 

“I’m not doing dishes.” she explained, and folded her legs to sit, cross-legged, three feet above the table.

“Too rich for my liking,” Holden said. “I’ll fold.” 

“I’m in,” Bobbie said, pushing her chips in hard enough to send the whole pot drifting slightly. Amos blinked, his smile unwavering, and matched the bet.

There was a long pause.

“Anyone feel like calling, before I’m too damn old to take my winnings?” Avasarala asked, her tone sharp but her eyes warm.

“Call,” Bobbie said, trading glares with Alex. She flipped her cards over first, and Alex flipped his with a hoot of glee. 

“Take this, crazy woman!” he said. Avasarala flipped her cards with a smile and a nod at Amos. 

“Enjoy your prize money.” she said, as Amos flipped over his cards and started gathering up the tokens. 

“What?” Alex said, craning to get a look at them. “But, he looked just like that when he was bluffing last time!” 

“Really, Naomi, we’ve got to keep your crew away from politics and the media.” Avasarala said, with a mischievous smile.

“Doing my best, sir.” Naomi replied. “They misbehave.” 

“They’re also my crew,” Holden chimed in, but his relaxed backwards float belied the lack of bite behind the words. 

“Honestly, all your crew ever seems to do is float around and pretend to be mad at each other.” Clarissa said from the kitchen, where she was digging through a pack of protein rations. “I don’t know how you ever foiled my evil schemes.” 

“She seems to be doing better.” Avasarala said, gathering her sari up around her and reaching for the nearest hand-hold. “But she’s right. And before you drag me into your world of sloth, I must go call my husband and listen to some new poetry decrying your world of sin.” She pushed off the wall and disappeared down the corridor. 

“Have fun!” Alex called after her, and they all gradually dispersed back to wherever on the ship they were needed. 

The kitchen in the Rocinante is the unofficial meeting place of the crew, but family isn’t limited to location. 


End file.
